Where We Began
by casfics
Summary: Dr. Alicia Munroe returns to Holby ED after a year off aloof and guarded, with baggage even those closest to her cannot begin to understand. As time passes by, and as truth unravells piece by piece, secrets threaten to destroy life as they all know it.


_December 25th, 1996_

 _Ethan adjusts his thick-rimmed spectacles and sniffles with indignation. Their adoptive mother drilled into them the importance of patience and turn-taking; if nothing else, this was perhaps her greatest effort within their early upbringing. Unfortunately, Caleb must have missed the importance, as he rips into his seventh Christmas gift on the floor. Streams of gold and red ribbon litter the carpet like festive carnage, and the adults smile and coo over his eagerness and excitement. Neither notice the child with the stutter whose feet have turned purple from sitting crouched for too long. All families have a rule that dictates the youngest goes first — all but the Hardy household, who make no secret of their clear favourite._

 _Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, the eldest child giddily turns to his younger brother._

 _'How many did you get?'_

 _'Three,' replies Ethan, nodding to the remaining corner under the Christmas tree where a few forlorn boxes sit._

 _'Only three?' he asks incredulously, delight seeping through his expression._

 _'Perhaps Father Christmas list Ethan's list and had to guess,' offers Simon unhelpfully._

 _Although only 10 years old, to Caleb, if you can't count it, it's not worth it. Inferiority doesn't even bother Ethan as he politely peels back the paper to discover a pair of new gloves, an encyclopaedia and a keyring. He does not want to argue with his brother. Especially not today._

 _'Listen, boys. You know that we're going out to a party soon. Well, our friends are organising a babysitter for their daughter, so it figures that you go along too rather than us paying twice.'_

 _'Not a baby,' huffs Caleb._

 _'No —of course not— a kid sitter then, love,' replies Lisa, exasperated. 'You'll have fun. Martin is a high school friend of your father's before he moved cities. They have just moved down to Manchester for two years because of his work.'_

 _'Is the girl older?' Caleb asks, losing interest fast as he pokes the new race car._

 _'No, she just turned seven.'_

 _'Is she in Year 3 too, Mum?' Ethan asks with a tinge of hope._

 _Momentarily, Lisa is distracted by her own appearance in the mirror. She fluffs up her curls, pouts and groans. Ever since she went to the hairdressers, she frowns at her reflection and wobbles her head a bit._

 _'Simon, blonde does not suit me. Why didn't you say when we were at the salon?'_

 _He fixes his eyes on her. Ethan watches how they travel from her toes right to her head, and wonders silently why such a slow appraisal is needed._

 _'I wouldn't say no,' smirks the man, crumpling a lager can in one strong hand and tossing it aside._

 _'Well, of course you wouldn't. You're three sheets to the wind!'_

 _'Mum—' Ethan persists._

 _She sighs, long and drawn out, and suddenly he understands why his dad calls him a little bugger. Whatever one of those is, he knows that description of him is true._

 _'Go upstairs, boys. Get ready. Put something presentable on, I don't want you looking like street urchins on Christmas Day.'_

 _'But who is this kid sitter?'_

 _'A girl that's going to look after you all. Goodness, you'll never know if you don't go find your shirt! Quick!' Lisa clips, rising and shimmying forwards until she's successfully shepherded the youngest child out of the room._

 _He lingers in the hallway for his brother, eyeing the tinsel that drapes from the bannister. Soon, Caleb is too ejected from the living room, and the brothers bound upstairs and into their shared room._

 _'Do you ever think of our real Mummy-Mum, at Christmas?' Ethan blurts out._

 _'Only a bit,' Caleb replies, dragging a sweatshirt off the floor and pulling it on. 'Why, do you?'_

 _'I sometimes think about who she is. I think I'd quite like to know. We could have made her a card with glitter at the school festival.'_

 _'We've had parents for years now, since you were a baby. A mum and a dad. Who cares about having another one? Besides, you were only allowed to make two cards at school.'_

 _'Mrs Tomlinson would have said it was—'_

 _'Nibbles,' interrupts Caleb, kicking away the toy stethoscope beneath his feet. 'Just shut up.'_

 _Hurt, Ethan buttons up his shirt and flattens the collar in front of the mirror. He combs through his hair — even though he is being taunted — and reaches for the old Regatta coat of his brother's lying at the bottom of the wardrobe. If there are new people there, he wants to look nice rather than all dishevelled._

 _'Are you two ready?' Simon bursts through the door, leaving the hinges wobbling. A vein throbs in his temple and he looks from son to son._

 _'You look cool,' he says, ruffling Caleb's hair as he dodges underneath the man's arm._

 _'Your mother will kill me if you take any longer. Get your act together, Ethan, you'll be scruffing about playing Monopoly not attending a three-course-meal.'_

 _'But she said—'_

 _'Hurry up,' he grunts. 'Or we'll be late.'_


End file.
